That Man Simon Read Free

herself flushing, and she felt even more foolish than she had during their previous encounter.
    The man was openly amused. ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘I live here,’ she answered shortly.
    ‘Really? - In this shed?’ he asked banteringly.
    She bit her lip. ‘In the Rectory ... the house on the other side of the fence.’
    ‘Oh, I see.’ His glance took in the shabby jersey and slacks she had put on after tea. Then he moved out of the doorway and returned to the path.
    Jenny followed. ‘If you’re looking for a building site, this land is already sold,’ she informed him coldly.
    The hostility in her tone seemed to increase his amusement. ‘So you’re trespassing ... and pinching primroses,’ he said, noticing the bunch in her hand. ‘Not exactly the conduct one would expect of a daughter of the Rectory, do you think?’
    Her colour deepened. ‘I don’t think the owner would mind.’

    ‘Not in the least,’ he said negligently.
    It was a moment or two before the significance of this remark registered.
    When it did, Jenny could not conceal her consternation.
    ‘Y-you are the owner?’ she stammered, taken aback.
    ‘I’m afraid so,’ he said sardonically. ‘My name is Gilchrist
    ... and yours, I believe, is Shannon. How do you do, Miss Shannon.’ He held out his hand to her. ‘Perhaps, as I shall eventually be your neighbour, it might be a good idea if I came and introduced myself to your parents.’
    ‘My parents are dead. I live with my grandparents - and they’re both out this evening.’ She knew her tone was ungracious, but he could hardly expect her to be cordial when his own manner was deliberately provoking.
    ‘Some other time, then. I shall be over here a good deal in the next few months.’ His grey eyes glinted derisively. ‘I expect we shall see a lot of each other.’
    ‘You’re going to build a house here for yourself?’
    ‘Yes, starting next month. I hope by late August to be living here. The village seems a pleasant little place, and now that they’ve improved the road into town it shouldn’t take long to get to my office and back.’
    Suddenly Jenny realized just how much difference it would make to have another house built close by.
    Standing some way out of the village, and flanked on one side by the churchyard and on the other by sloping water-meadows, the Rectory had always enjoyed complete privacy. But now they would be overlooked, their peaceful seclusion spoiled.
    ‘Where are you going to put the house?’ she asked him.
    ‘Down there on the open ground.’ He indicated a position which would mean that it would be directly in line with her bedroom window.

    ‘I see. Well, I’d better be going. Good-bye, Mr. Gilchrist.’
    ‘You don’t have to run away,’ he said, as she moved. ‘I don’t mind you coming in here while the place is running wild. If you don’t pick the flowers, I imagine children will.’
    ‘Thank you, but I wouldn’t dream of coming now that the ground is going to be used,’ she told him stiffly.
    ‘You know, Miss Shannon, I think it was a pity I came to your aid the other day.’ His face was expressionless, but she was almost sure he was laughing at her inwardly.
    ‘How do you mean?’ she asked guardedly.
    ‘I fancy I rather deflated your amour propre - not a very auspicious beginning to a neighbourly relationship.’
    ‘Not at all. I was grateful for your help.’
    ‘Hm ... I wonder? Women are usually sensitive about their driving prowess.’
    ‘I don’t see why they should be,’ she answered coolly. ‘I believe statistics show that women are generally safer drivers than men.’
    His mouth quirked at one corner. ‘Statistics can be made to prove almost anything. The trouble with women at the wheel is that they get rattled too easily.’
    ‘Probably because there’s always some lordly male driver honking them on from behind,’ Jenny countered crisply. ‘I must go now. Good-bye, Mr. Gilchrist.’
    A few minutes after she